Left Out in the Sun
by dolphinsramazing
Summary: NCIS and the Jeffersonian share jurisdiction on the death of a petty officer which Brennan has ties to.Unfortunately,not enough rooms were booked at the local hotel,forcing some of our favorite couples to share a room.BB,Tiva,McAbby,Hodgela,Gibbs/Cam?
1. Chapter 1

"Gear up, we've got a case" our boss's authoritative tone rang throughout the bullpen. I glimpsed across the walkway and saw the slight nod from my partner. Yanking my crime scene gear from its corner, I strode briskly, my eyes concentrated on the dark hair ahead of me.

Tony's green eyes were completely interlocked with my brown ones as he whined and complained. "Zee-vah, you should've let me drive! Gibbs will kill us if we get to the crime scene before he does." I shook my head at the pronunciation of my name he predominantly used. We bumped along in the NCIS van as the speedometer fluctuated and leveled out at 75. I took a sharp turn onto a major highway, dubbed "US-1".

"Tony, Gibbs ordered me to drive for a reason. We have to drive to Miami at least that is what the CPS, yes, said. If you drive, it will take us _days_ to get there." I responded informatively. Tony threw his head into his hands, and my sharp ears caught McGee's barely audible groan. Laughing, Tony said "GPS, Zee-vah. G-P-S. Global Positioning System. You've been in the US for what, three years now, and you _still_ can't figure these things out. You know 47 ways to kill someone with a paper clip, but not a simple device like this. Tsk tsk", he said, feigning disapproval.

Shaking him off, I continued "We are sharing jurisdiction with another group. The liaison on the FBI…"

"Damn cocky Feds" Tony interrupted under his breath.

I shook my head "and the Jeffersonian Institution. Have you ever heard of it?" directing my last question at McGee.

He began to get giddy. "Yeah, I have. They are supposed to be the best facility in the country in terms of science and computer forensics. Abby is gonna be so excited!"

"Man, it gets worse than Probalicious here? Z, we are _so_ in for it."

Shaking my head at yet _another_ nickname for me, I concurred with his statement. I voiced my opinion on the matter.

Gripping the wheel tighter, my hands firmly on the "10 and 2" grip, I pushed my foot upon the gas pedal, accelerating in order to swerve around a slow Mazda ahead of me. Tony began to whimper like a little child, and McGee was pushed flat against the back of the van. A soft semismile appeared across my lips, but I released my foot slightly.

Time, surprisingly, passed quite quickly in the van. Tony shared humorous stories of his childhood, where he was "loaded", as he so bluntly put it. I shocked myself with being able to laugh easily at his jokes. McGee also joined the conversation, telling tales of MIT, where he went to college. All too soon, we pulled up into the alleged crime scene, our silver-haired boss already present.

My Mossad skills taught me to observe my surroundings pristinely, in order to look for potential enemies and/or suspects as such. I noticed a tall, maybe about 6'1", dressed in a dark black suit, chiseled muscles visible even from a distance, standing beside him an auburn-haired woman and I could see his protective hold on her- probably a girlfriend. Oh well. This must be the Jeffersonian team, obviously quite unorthodox.

Gear slung across my shoulder, we trudged forward, awaiting Gibbs's instruction. Speaking of Gibbs, I looked around and didn't see him anywhere. Suddenly his hand appeared out of nowhere to smack Tony in the back of the head. Stifling a laugh, I heard his gravelly voice questioning "Why were you so late?". Like a child, he stuck his pointer finger at me, saying "Ziva drove…" I interrupted his incriminating statement with a "death glare" and cracked my knuckles menacingly. His open mouth shut immediately, and he fell silent, a truly rare occurrence.

Gibbs then escorted our trio over to the corresponding two. Extending a calloused hand, he introduced himself to the tall brown-haired man "Leroy Jethro Gibbs, but you can call me Gibbs." The man returned the gesture "Special Agent Seeley Booth and my partner Dr. Temperance Brennan. Nice to meet you." His manners were as impeccable as his appearance. And "partner". What did it mean in this instance? As I pondered the question, Gibbs began to point to McGee, Tony and I and introduce us. I acknowledged my own name with a slight nod of the head, but Dr. Brennan extended her small hand toward me, something she had not done for McGee. Her perfectly French manicured nails contrasted heavily with my bitten and torn ones. I had participated in futile attempts to rid myself of the habit since childhood. Not knowing what to do, I shook it, and as we did, our gazes interlocked. She had crystal blue eyes that seemed to notice everything. Dr. Brennan was truly a flawless and ravishing woman, and jealousy raged through my insides.

I forced a polite smile on my face and withdrew my hand. Gibbs moved on to Tony, who jumped the gun, spitting out "Special Agent Anthony Dinozzo, but _you _(emphasis toward Dr. Brennan) can call me Tony.

Jealousy overwhelmed me even more. Did he find the need to flirt with _every_ woman he encountered? I was so tired of him doing that. She laughed, and responded "You can call me Tempe". I saw Booth stiffen at her side and drape his long arm across her shoulders. Even I, unfamiliar with American mannerisms, could interpret it as a gesture of "claiming her". I, who as much hated chivalry as much as the next person, wished someone would treat me like that. His warm arm around my shoulders as I snuggled my head into his warm chest, green eyes focusing upon me, only me. I shook my head vigorously in an effort to rid myself of these thoughts. Remember rule number 12, Ziva. If it ever even happened, Gibbs would shoot us.

"Something wrong, Miss David?" Booth's bass voice rang in my ears. I stood up straighter, and glaring right at him, responded "Number one, it's _Officer_ David, and two, nothing at all and if there was it would be _none_ of your business!"

I regretted my harsh words immediately as the compassionate glimmer in his brown eyes turned to ice. Dr. Brennan placed her hand upon his forearm, and almost magically, the impending rage abandoned his irises. They sure _acted_ like a couple. At this exchange, I saw Tony lose some of the swagger in his posture, probably not from being able to hook up with yet _another_ girl.


	2. Chapter 2

Gibbs broke the awkward silence that followed by inquiring "Well, do we have a body or not?" Dr. Brennan switched to "science mode", pointing out the body in a ditch nearby. "Dead probably about two years. Preliminary COD appears to be blunt force trauma to the parietal bone. Definitely a murder." In accidental unison, Gibbs and Tony fired off questions.

Holding his nose, face scrunched up from the unfamiliar smell of decaying flesh, Tony asked "Is that a guy or a girl and _how_ do you do this all day?"

Gibbs inquired, "Why the hell are we even here? Is the decedent navy?"

Brennan looked bewildered. Turning to Booth, cerulean eyes wide, she asked him "Which one of them should I answer first?" Before Booth could help her, Gibbs commanded "Me. Now."

Besides Gibbs's controlling nature, I learned something else from that exchange. As much as Dr. Brennan was the premiere forensic anthropologist in the nation and a best-selling author (all according to McGee, her biggest fan), she was completely awkward and perplexed in social situations and encounters. The only person she seemed to easily forge any type of connection with was her partner, who seemed all to willing to help and protect her in any manner, with any consequences. My earlier feelings of envy at the attention Tony paid her dissipated as I felt a kinship with her as I often felt lost as well. When such situations occurred, Tony typically came to my rescue.

I was so lost in thought I didn't even notice Booth's quick response to Gibbs's demand. We found something on _her _(emphasis toward Tony) that somewhat resembles dog tags, but they are obviously illegible. Our forensic artist can hopefully recreate it and identify her, which is the primary duty of the Jeffersonian in this investigation as NCIS lacks the resources. However, NCIS, as per my recommendation, can be the leading entity in terms of the investigation, as long as we can assist you. We've set up a temporary office in the city where we can work with pristine equipment."

He finished his briefing and Gibbs appeared somewhat satisfied. McGee, speaking up for the first time, inquired "Will Abby and Ducky come down?" His voice hoarse, he cleared his throat nervously. However, I smiled as McGee's "more than friend" liking for Abby shone through even his thick barrier of fear. Gibbs turned toward Booth, the question clearly evident in his azure eyes. "Abby is our forensic scientist and Dr. Mallard is our ME" he clarified.

"Though we have sufficient resources with our forensic pathologist and myself, they can still come down, as long as your agency provides the necessary transportation. Booth here can pull a few threads to get extra room. Right, Booth?" She nudged him in the shoulder with her elbow as he nodded yes. I saw a gleam of intelligence flash through Tony's jade eyes and a teasing grin cross his lips.

"Tempe (accentuating the first word to remind us he was the only one permitted to call her that), it's pull a few _strings_ not a few threads. You're almost bad as Ziva here, and unlike her don't speak a thousand languages."

I butted it "It's only nine" in synchrony with her "Yes, I do. Well not 1000 because that's nearly impossible but quite a few."

Of course. I forgot she was a genius. I couldn't one up anything on her, could I?

I broke the subsequent silence by asking "Is there a hotel of place we can get settled in?"

Gibbs proceeded to shy away and tense up, something I had never seen in the iron-willed man prior to this occasion. Whatever followed could _not_ be good. He spoke up "We have reservations at the Hilton hotel courtesy of the Jeffersonian. Unfortunately, they didn't book enough rooms for all of us, probably due to a miscount. Consequently, some of us will have to share rooms. Any volunteers?" I saw the dare in his eyes as he pondered who had the guts.

"Well, how many of us are there? And how many people need rooms?" Tony asked.

Brennan interjected, "Well there is you, _Officer_ David, Agent McGee, Agent Gibbs, this "Ducky and Abby" you speak of, and from our team Angela, Hodgins, Cam, Booth and I. "

"And we have five rooms" Booth added.

"I know Ducky has already booked a room, so we don't have to worry about him." Gibbs interjected.

"So that leaves five rooms… for ten of us" McGee speedily calculated.

"Well Bones and I can share a room. It won't be the first time" he joked, flashing a dazzling smile at her. She nodded, an excited glint in her eyes. Bones? What kind of name was that?

"Angela and Hodgins too…though that might be a little awkward" Brennan said, unsuccessfully stifling a giggle. Booth laughed as well, a deep baritone sound their worlds shrinking to two as they shared a secret inside joke. After a few minutes of chuckling, Booth explained, "They tried to get married, found out Angela was already married, and broke up when Angela's husband came to town."

An accidental laugh escaped from my tight lips. Can you imagine being engaged to someone just to find out they were already married? Wow, I could picture Tony doing that _way_ too easily. Continuing with room assignments, Tony said "Well there's absolutely no possibility of me sharing a room with Probie Wan Kenobi here. Ziva, would you do the honors?" Though his tone was lighthearted and joking, his emerald eyes were sincere in their request, and my heart leaped inside my chest. I nodded my acceptance, still caught under his spell. I glimpsed a smirk on McGee's face which was immediately erased with Gibbs's next statement.

"McGee, you wouldn't mind staying with Abby, would you?" His face went bright red at the mention of sharing a room with his ex "casual lover". I knew for a fact that he had really loved her, and though he would never tell her, still did. Her nonchalant attitude pertaining to it tore him up inside. He can get _very_ loose-lipped with a few beers in his system. He stuttered out a "No problem" and another room was established. Looking at Gibbs, Booth said "I guess that leaves you and Cam, is that a problem?"

"No, I don't think so." Gibbs replied. "We'll see what happens when I actually meet her. I may change my mind." Tony started to laugh at one of Gibbs's rare jokes but it ceased with the connection of Gibbs's hand and the back of Tony's head.


	3. Chapter 3

"So that's settled, and the body is being transported to our facility as we speak. In the meantime, I want to introduce you to the rest of my team. Come in, guys," Booth called. Leading was a lean Asian woman whose very walk oozed confidence in many areas. She strode up to us, saying "Angela Montenegro, nice to meet all of you." Angela appeared very friendly and amiable, more so than Dr. Brennan. Following her was a shorter man with light brown curly hair and nearly colorless blue eyes. Following suit, he introduced himself as Dr. Jack Hodgins. The woman behind him was tall, striking and likely African American in origin. She stated her name as "Dr. Camille Saroyan, but call me Cam." So _this_ was the Cam that Gibbs had to share a room with. Too bad she wasn't a redhead-otherwise she was _definitely_ Gibbs's type.

Dr. Brennan provided the rest "Angela is a forensic artist and expert in facial reconstruction and digitizing, Hodgins a forensic entomologist and particulate specialist, and Cam a forensic pathologist and premiere doctor in autopsy. The body should arrive at the lab soon. Just follow Booth and I and we will begin our investigation. "

Leaving the area, we hopped back into the monogrammed NCIS van. Tony whined like a child until I let him drive, so my sore ears and I finally relented. I had to admit, albeit the lack of speed, Tony was quite an accomplished driver. Tailing the black Suburban, we arrived at the "lab" in due time. I could see the shiny silver of Gibbs's sedan behind us as he zoomed into the parking spot in closest proximity to ours.

We strode into the building in pairs, Booth's hand on the small of Brennan's back, his chivalrous nature fully showcased. Tony was next to me, walking closer than typical but not quite touching. Angela and Hodgins were behind us, chatting amicably and laughing together. Little did they know they were sharing a room. Gibbs and Cam followed them, the two official leaders, though Booth pretty much controlled the Jeffersonian side of things. They actually appeared to be quite at ease with each other, which surprised me due to Gibbs's typically cold demeanor. McGee, with his head hung low, comprised the end of our group, looking like a lost puppy dragged along for the ride. Though a wave of sympathy shot through me with his solidarity, he would be happier upon Abby's imminent arrival.

I saw the body laid upon a silver autopsy table, and scrunched my face at its grotesque appearance. How could someone get a _human_ out of that? I had seen horrors in my Mossad days, most of which I rarely spoke of, like Tali's death. Involuntary tears flooded my eyes at the though of my baby sister's demise. As furiously and quickly as I tried to wipe them away, Tony still noticed my anguished expression and in an alarmingly sweet gesture, pushed a strand of hair off my forehead, an electric current running through me, as he asked me what was wrong. Though I was pleasantly surprised at his tender touch, this was not the time or the place. I mouthed "Later" to him and for now, we left it at that.

I noticed everyone was staring at us, and feeling my face redden, I excused myself to the ladies room to reapply my smudged makeup. After an intense struggle to locate it in the vast facility, I was putting on mascara when I heard the door open and close and Dr. Brennan walk in.

"Hello, Officer David. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, as you've been in here for quite a while." she said. Shocked at her display of friendliness after my cold attitude, I told her "Please, call me Ziva. And yes, I am fine. I was just thinking about my little sister who died in a Hamas bombing. I am Israeli." I explained, feeling my eyes fill up with tears once more. Most people would be astounded by my blunt directness, but Brennan seemed to give me a run for my money in that area. In a shocking gesture, she put her long arms around me, explaining how her parents had disappeared when she was 15, leaving her in foster care, and finding her mother murdered just three years ago. She reassured softly that I was not the only one with a troubled childhood. Booth had demons in his past as well, and to please call her Tempe. Surprisingly, she actually made me feel better.

"So what's it like working with all men? I spend most of my time with Booth, and he's chivalrous to such an extreme it annoys me. I can't imagine _three_ of him." Tempe said.

Jumping on a change of subject, I quickly responded "Well, Gibbs and Ducky are chauvinists, though Gibbs refuses to admit it, McGee is too afraid of me to do anything and Tony is…" I couldn't think of a word to describe Tony's attitude toward women. Before Jeanne, I would've said a womanizer but now, I wasn't sure.

She took my lack of a continuation as an opportunity for her to speak. "Let me let you in on a secret. Men are the only things that stump me. So don't worry about Tony." The air of finality in her voice ended this topic of conversation.

"I think we should leave here before the overprotective alpha males think something happened to us," Tempe said.

Laughing slightly, I nodded, and my newfound friend and I departed the sanctuary of the ladies room.

We rejoined the group in the high-ceilinged room, all congregated in an odd ovular figure around the silver autopsy table containing the grotesque sight. Cam was examining what appeared to be tissue samples as the other gawked. I noticed one of our number was missing-Angela. Before I could contemplate her possible whereabouts, she strode in, in her hand a file emblazoned with the official FBI logo.

"I got an ID on our vic in the NCIS database. Name's Petty Officer James Garabin. Born October 16, 1984 in…Bren, what's the matter?" Angela stopped her briefing at a glimpse at the incredulous expression currently masking the doctor's features.

"No. It can't be him. There's no way. You're wrong. Redo the tissue markers. It's not him!" her voice rose several octaves and decibels by the end of her rampage.

"Bones, did you know him?" Booth's concern for his partner's anguish was clearly evident in his soothing tone.

"He was Russ's best friend and like another brother to me, until…" Of course. Until her brother left.

"It's okay, Bones." Booth reassured her, rubbing small circles on her back. "We'll talk more about this later" he whispered into her ear, but my sharp ears picked it up.

"Okay, so like I said, he's 25, was born in D.C., graduated from AU, joined the academy, spotless career." Angela closed.

Gibbs started to put input as to the investigation. "Number one, what's someone from D.C. doing in Miami.

Tempe interrupted, "We're pretty sure this was a dump job. We need Hodgins's particulate evidence to confirm, however." Her gaze rested on the seemingly quiet scientist.

" B." He hurried off purposefully to identify the dirt and bug samples.

Tony interjected "Is there a number two, boss?"

I turned away for a second and then I saw Tony rubbing the familiar spot on the back of his head. Man, Gibbs was smacking him _a lot_ today.

"Of course not, boss. Continue." He massaged his sore head unconsciously.

I spoke up "So if our Petty Officer was such a model citizen, what in the world is the motive for his death?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry about the wait, I've gone on two vacations and just recently got my internet back. Hope you like it!**

The awkward silence filling the room broke with a large yawn escaping from Tony's mouth, despite his futile attempts to stifle it. I unconsciously rubbed my sore eyes, allowing the feeling of fatigue to wash over me.

"What time is it?" McGee questioned, suppressing another yawn.

Booth flicked his wrist and glanced at his Armani watch. "10:15. Wow, time flies! I think it's time for everyone to retire for the night. Other that Bones, I don't think anyone can function well enough to actually discover anything important to the case, and we also need your ME to arrive" he informed us.

"Does everyone remember their room assignments?" Tony asked, a mischievous glint in his emerald eyes.

"How could we forget?" McGee grumbled.

"C'mon, Timmy, it won't be _so_ bad." Abby teased, speaking for the first time in at least an hour. She had arrived a few hours ago, and struck up an instant friendship with Angela, but had kept her distance from Tempe. I wasn't sure if she saw how absorbed Tempe became in her work, blocking out the whole world, focusing every ounce of her concentration upon the task at hand, or if it was just how distant Tempe seemed to anyone who didn't know her. Frankly, I barely knew her myself, but a kinship and the seeds of friendship had already sprung between us. What allowed me to believe this were her interactions with Booth, how comfortable she seemed, how confident she felt.

"Enough chit-chat, let's get back to our hotel," Booth interrupted my train of thought. His hand on his (already) customary spot on the small of her back, he guided Tempe out of the "lab" and into his black SUV. Tony strode briskly ahead of me to the NCIS van, our third member abandoning us in favor of traveling in Abby's hearse.

I had never noticed the intimacy of traveling alone with Tony in the van before. Typically, McGee sat between us and small talk ensued. The current tension which comprised the bulk of our relationship inhibited us from such. I recalled Tony's behavior in front of the others: one minute flirting with Tempe, the next comforting me. He was an extremely confusing man.

Instead, we exchanged views about the current case and possible suspects for such. Considering the lack of information, though we had made quite a lot of headway over the course of the day, the conversation didn't last long. Fortunately, we arrived at the hotel soon thereafter.

Our large, bustling party of ten entered the nearly deserted Hilton, still chatting away about one thing or another. Pity was an emotion I rarely felt, but it was such in this situation. Waves overwhelmed me as I looked at my typically confident, nearly to the point of arrogance, boss. Gibbs stayed on the fringe of the group, his silver hair and blue eyes pointed downward in a gesture of defeat as he walked along. I had never realized how lonely he must really be; no long-term relationships, the love(s) of his life dead and buried. I knew he put on a brave face each and every day, but every now and then I thought I saw a glimpse of vulnerability and grief cross his lined face. Now he had to share a room with a woman he had never met before.

We formed a chaotic mob/line in order to attain our room keys. Suddenly the room was filled with gasps of hysterical laughter escaping from Angela's mouth, her tousled black curls swinging wildly and framing her chiseled cheekbones. Her deep brown eyes tearing, copious amounts of mascara running down her cheeks, Abby placed a black-nailed hand on her back, in an attempt to calm her down, though I saw the Goth's matching black lips were also parted in a toothy grin. As her uncontrollable guffaws slowed to a giggle, I caught bits and pieces of words escaping from her mouth. "Booth…Brennan. Tony…Ziva." My eyes widened in shock and fear. What were these two planning? I had already observed that it was Angela's sole prerogative for this "trip"(and likely most days at the "lab") to get Tempe and Booth to become an _official_ couple, though they acted so much like a couple already that I wondered if they were participating in a true relationship behind Angela (and the other's) backs. Quite on the same train of thought, Abby had recently been badgering me about my feelings for Tony, not that I could give her an honest answer…but of course she interprets my silence and stuttering as a confession of undying love. Well, anything with Abby and Angela pertaining to the foursome mentioned could _not_ be good for us.

"Zee-vah. Ziva! Get your head out of la-la land; it's time for us to _retire _to our _single-bedded_ room," Tony said, displaying his usual bravado. Was that _all _Tony _ever_ thought about. I thought back to the day I met him: "remembering" his dead partner, Kate, the magazine we were both reading. It was then I realized how much my deepest nature had changed since I had been at NCIS. Instead of the remorseless, cold-blooded assassin I was trained to be I was now filled with more compassion, more hope, and more-dare I say it-love. At Tony's repeated insistence, I again flicked, no snapped (!) out of my reverie, and we stepped into the glass elevator, as all of our rooms were on the 7th floor. The doors opened, and we parted our ways for the night.

***AUTHORS NOTE*: Though up to this point the fic has been in the perspective of Ziva, it will now change throughout at least the remainder of this chapter as to gain perspective in each of the hotel rooms. **

The Room of Temperance Brennan and Seeley Booth

Booth's POV

I slid the room key into the gold slot in the cherry-wood door, the blinking green light inviting us in. Turning the handle, I took a small step back into the bustling hallway, and extended my arm in a gesture of chivalry, inviting Bones to enter the room first. A disgruntled expression on her face, she stepped into the room with me at her heels, my feet sinking into the plush white carpet. She strode into the small room, her cerulean eyes scoping it out and as per the satisfied expression on her face, she must have found it up to her standards.

She sat on the lone king bed in the center of the room, and began removing her shoes and socks. I plopped myself down next to her and followed suit. My last wish was to make her uncomfortable, because though this was not a first for us, this was a first for us _not_ being undercover. So lost in my own thoughts, I barely sensed the presence of my partner at my side, and definitely didn't notice the tears running rapidly down her cheeks, and unlike before she made no effort to cease the flow. Without knowing the particular reason, just seeing her in any sort of discomfort alerted a sense in my brain to comfort her. I draped an arm across her shoulders and rubbed small circles on her upper arm in an attempt to console her. After a few moments, she turned her tear-streaked face towards me, the innocence of a young child present in the red rimmed lids.

Not knowing how to initiate whatever conversation she clearly wished to have, I was relieved when she opened her mouth first.

"Every day we deal with murder and corpses and the like. Sometimes it's a nameless person until Angela gives us a face. Sometimes we never find out the identity of the decedent. And other times it's someone we know, someone we love dearly. The man we examined today, I considered him my brother, and I was likely closer to him than I ever was to Russ. And one of these days, it's going to be one of our team on that table. It's such a high-risk environment that the chance of it is higher than for most. If it was Hodgins or Zach or Angela or even Cam on that table, I don't know what I would do," she finished with an exhilarated sigh, and she sunk in defeat.

Though I had been trained not to show expressions and emotions on my face, a wave of shock overtook me at her proclamation. In the four years I had known her, she had changed so much, from letting rationality rule every inch of her being to allowing emotion to overtake her, I hadn't realized the extent of her transformation. She would've never broken down or showed weakness four years ago. She would never have admitted the strength of her friendships with the aforementioned four. Just one small qualm passed through my mind-she didn't mention anything about me. I knew what Cam would say if I had voiced that thought in her presence- "Oh my god, Seeley, the ego!". And maybe I was a tad vain, but I had proven the fact that I would sacrifice myself for others-well, just _one_ other.

**"**I just spilled my stomach to you, and you don't even have a response. Maybe I was wrong about you, Booth!" Anger and indignation clouded her clear tone.

**"**First of all, Bones, it's gut. You spilled your gut. And second, not all of our brains process and respond as fast as yours does. I was getting to it. I agree with you, our jobs are definitely those type that encompass more danger than most. But the day that you blackmailed me, the Cleo Eller case, I thought you knew what you were getting into with field work. Are you going to back down now?" The challenge in the question echoed throughout the silent room.

"Field work has brought me a joy that I thought nothing but anthropology could bring. I'm just…afraid. Afraid of losing the people I care about" She confessed.

"I can't say that nothing will happen, but I will personally do my best to prevent it," I reassured her.

"Thanks, Booth," I could tell from her voice that the salutation was sincere.

"I just have one _little_ question," I said with a hint of a smile.

"Fine," she said with an exasperated sigh and a twist of her wavy locks.

"When you said the people 'on the table', you didn't mention me. What would happen if it was me on that table?" I felt small and insignificant being so frank with her.

Her eager face fell, and tears glittered in her aqua eyes. "I want to be rational and say that I could compartmentalize, but I honestly don't think that in this instance I would be able to. If it was you, Booth, I don't know what I would do. I can't picture my life without you. Even just days and weeks without you make me feel empty, like a part of me is missing, even though I know that is not physically possible. I don't know how to interpret that into an emotion, but that's how I feel." Despite her attempts, she sobbed uncontrollably, the second occurrence of such in a very short period of time.

This time I was too bewildered to comfort her as I had prior. What had she meant? My romantic side of my brain had often pictured confessions of undying love and devotion, and the sane part had dismissed the notion because of the subject in question. I had decided a long time ago that if she gave any hint of this, I would confess my feelings to her. Was this the time? What did I have to lose? The cautious side told me I could destroy an incredibly successful partnership, and worst of all, the best friend I had ever had. The bold side told me to go for it: the absolute worst she could do was run, and I could always find her. The best…I pictured a house and a yard with two kids and a dog, even though I knew that would never happen with her, but hey a man can dream right?

As the woman I loved sat there crying, I made my decision: I would confess, disregarding the possible repercussions.

"Bones, I have to tell you something I should have told you a long time ago," I said rapidly, taking a deep breath.

"What?" She asked, her expression reminding me remarkably of the picture of her as a teenager.

"Bones, I love you." I said.

**Ooooh, cliffie! Sorry, I had to. Review please! Reviews make the world go round**

**~Dolphinsramazing~**


	5. Author's Note

Hey, I'm sorry for any of you who thought this was an update, but unfortunately it's not. I just want to apologize for the absolute abomination called my lack in updates. I'm almost done with a new chapter, and I just want to ask for your patience, because it should be up in a few days. Thanks for those of you have stuck with this, and you _will_ get a real update soon!

~Dolphinsramazing~


	6. Chapter 5

**The Room of Ziva David and Tony DiNozzo**

Now that we had left the company of the others, an awkward silence enveloped us as we walked through the carpeted hallway to our room. Instead of the amicable side by side gait we had used for the majority of the day, she was now striding quickly ahead of me, seemingly very eager to retire to our room. Reaching the assigned door, uniform with the others, she yanked the key card from the pocket of her tight, dark jeans (which I had to say fit her _extremely _well), inserting it into the slot and opening the door. She walked in and out of force of habit began to examine very closely, for what I suspected was for listening devices. I began to follow suit, falling into the easy rhythm of trusting my partner's instincts. Why anyone would want to bug us I had no idea, but I figured we were better safe then sorry.

She finished her quick search, and then retreated to the farthest corner of the room, her gaze resting on the immaculate paint of the wall in front of her. She I sat quietly, deciding that what Ziva needed right now was silence, and time to think about whatever it was that was plaguing her.

My instincts were correct, and after about fifteen minutes of peace, and me almost going stir-crazy with lack of entertainment, she spun around quickly and sat down on the threadbare mattress. Even across the room, he could see a single teardrop, glistening like a diamond, forging a path down her flawless, olive-skinned cheek, a pioneer. Easily viewed to him now were the unshed tears shining in her brown eyes, and they began to fall. A few fell, and she blinked the rest back quickly in an effort to keep her "dignity".

This ignited in me a burning desire to offer her comfort, aid. She had her head cast down, and I interpreted this as the thought that tears were a flaw, that grief was unacceptable. Seeing my eyes upon her, she averted her gaze and curled up into a little ball, the epitome of weakness. Soon she released her legs from their arm prison and began pacing the room intently, banging her iron fist on the wall, and then grabbing her knuckles in pain. Ziva began punching at anything within reach, beginning to flail when it was revealed that her attempts were for naught. She hit blindly, and then sank down to the ground, her head against the wall and chocolate eyes to the ceiling.

I always knew that the Ziva she showed to the world wasn't the real one, but I never knew that the real woman was so inherently different. Throughout the day, Ziva plays a part. The role of the elusive Mossad assassin, who discloses little about her past, covered in a shroud of mystery and violence. The exotic and striking beauty, the unattainable prize for a man like me. But when the curtain goes down, there is a different woman behind the mask, behind the façade. A woman who believes in love, a woman willing to be dependent upon another, a woman who doesn't believe that emotions are weakness, but the depiction of strength.

This realization truly washed over me as she rose from the bed and came over to me, still standing awkwardly near the door. I settled down to her level, hands running through her long, beautiful hair, easing out the tangles.

Ziva stopped crying only seconds after she joined me, but still sat in silence for quite a while, which left me to my own thought. I knew that Ziva was an Oscar-worthy actress, but I really shouldn't be talking. I have my part cast for me as well. The Italian playboy who only cares about his next lay. The overgrown frat boy who would sacrifice a long-term relationship with a "real" woman for some hot, steamy fun. The man who quotes movies instead of relating the situation to his own life, the man who infuriates and pranks colleagues to get attention.

I would have continued analyzing my life, which I had to admit in and of itself was peculiar, but then Ziva began to speak.

"I am sorry, Tony, for breaking down like that. I should not have…"she said, breaking rule six in the process. How could she apologize after everything she had endured over the past few months?

I interrupted her with a finger across her lips. "Ziva, you're not weak for showing emotion. It makes you stronger." I said, trying to sound clever with my comment.

"Yes, I have realized that of late. I have certainly been having much emotion since I got back from Somalia. I think it was all boxed up and all came simmering to the surface." She said botching each and every colloquialism she attempted to use.

I shook my head faking strong disdain, and corrected her. "It's _pent_ up and _boiling _to the surface."

She disregarded my comment with a roll of the eyes. "I have no one left. Everyone who has ever loved me, anyone who has ever cared about me, is gone. The first one to leave me, albeit not by any choice of her own, was my mother. Her name was Arielle David, and she was the most vibrant, positive person I had ever met. Despite my father's prestigious position in Mossad, even then, she sheltered Tali, Ari and I from that dangerous world. Ari was not even biologically hers, but she treated him with the same respect and almost reverence as Tali and I. It was as if she thought of children, hers or otherwise, as a blessing. As a result of her extreme protective instinct, I honestly did not even know what my father did for a living until I was fourteen years old.

On my fourteenth birthday, my mother was diagnosed with melanoma, the deadliest of all skin cancers. Before she decided to settle down and raise a family, she was also part of Mossad- a very valuable asset, because her small size and seemingly innocent appearance diverted suspicion during her missions. Despite this, she had survived bombs, shootings, biological attacks, and she could neutralize any threat. But the one thing she can not attack, the one thing she can't eliminate, is the one thing that turns on her- her own body. In my opinion, it's one of the worst ways to die- or watch someone you love die. You sit, helpless, as you watch the life seep out of them. As their skin becomes so disfigured that the person you have known all your life is totally unrecognizable. What made it worse was I was actually with her when she died. My father decided that we should let her spend her last few months in the peace and solace of her own home, and I was there, holding her hand, when she whispered she loved me and her eyes fluttered shut. She squeezed my hand one last time, and then the heart monitor went berserk, and just like that, she was gone. I was sixteen years old, and for all intensive purposes, an orphan. But thankfully I still had Tali and Ari."

I knew I had a shocked look on my face. Ziva had so much pain in her past, and yet possessed so much fervent hope for what the future might bring her. The story, I'm sure, was hard enough for her to tell without worrying about my reaction, and so she continued on without lifting her gaze from the floor.

"Not for long, however. After my mother died, I began to immerse myself in the 'family business', at my father's encouragement. Ari had been put through the training when he turned sixteen, and was now a full blown field agent. I saw less and less of him as the years passed, and each time I saw him, he was a little less like the Ari I knew and loved. His eyes got this hardened look, like he had survived all the evils of the world. I learned all the techniques you say make me "ninja", and I was given my first mission at age eighteen. I was sent to take out the leader of a suspected Hamas terrorist cell. Since I had to infiltrate the cell and get them to trust me, the mission took almost six months. I was not allowed any contact with my family, my friends. So, once I successfully completed the mission, you can imagine my shock when I returned home and Tali was gone. She had been killed in a Hamas suicide bombing the month after I left, and no one had deemed it important enough for me to know that my sixteen year old little sister was dead.

I found out the details of her death later. Tali had always been very creative, very in touch with her artistic side. She was on her way to being a professional ballerina, and had been on her way to practice for Tchaikovsky's Lac de Cygnes, of which she was the star, when a bomb went off in the heart of Tel-Aviv. Tali was dead on impact. I was like Gibbs after her death, pursuing her killers with a vengeance. I ended up finding out that the group that set off this bomb was actually the group led by the man I had killed. That angered me more than anything. If I would have been able to kill him quicker, I might have been able to save her."

I hated seeing Ziva, my ninja Ziva, so dubious and unsure of herself. I now know what they say about having the weight of the world on your shoulders- she certainly thinks she does. How could she blame herself for Tali's death? There are some things that no one has control over, and that is definitely one of them.

I voiced my sentiment "Ziva, it's not your fault in the slightest. There was nothing anyone could have done." I said comfortingly (or so I hoped), placing a hand on her shoulder.

She leaned into me, her head on my shoulder and her beautiful russet curls fall down my back. I placed a protective arm around her shoulders, and I felt her tension release as she relaxed against me. Ziva responded quietly, "I know that now."

The comfort, the security, the solace I felt in the subsequent moments was never matched. It was almost as if her body was perfectly molded to me, like two puzzle pieces that fit together impeccably. I could have stayed there all night, but she lifted her head from my shoulder and inched slightly away from me, the apprehension in her disposition once again. I sat eagerly, more so than I should be for her to continue her tale of misfortune, pain and suffering- the story of Ziva's life.

"Ari was the next casualty. You know some about this. My father, his father, he sent Ari on the most difficult missions he could find, trying to fashion him into a weapon that could be at his disposal. A killing machine to whom the cost of the life being taken meant nothing, a compassionate boy turned into an alien man. After the transformation occurred, my father was shocked when Ari turned on him. He went rogue, and became a terrorist, the very thing my father had feared. With all the intense training we undertook, he was very much lethal and unstoppable. He sent me to neutralize the threat in whatever way necessary."

My mouth dropped open in astonishment- being a cop and later an agent had taught me to read between the lines. The realization that _she_ had killed Ari, that Ziva had pulled the trigger and snuffed the life out of her own brother, made all the sense in the world now. Why Gibbs took to her so easily after Ari died, his unfailing trust in her despite how guilty she looked. Why Gibbs had more respect and patience for her than any woman, hell anyone, besides maybe Jenny. I can't even imagine how hard that must have been for her, regardless of the man, or the monster, that he had become.

"Yes, I killed my half-brother Ari, on my father's orders." She said matter-of- factly, breaking my train of thought and confirming my suspicions. "It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, but the obedient daughter I was, I passed the test with flying colors." Ziva said with scorn coloring her tone.

"I'm so sorry, Ziva." I said genuinely, hoping my sincerity would compensate for my not knowing what to say.

"It gets easier over time," she said with a shrug of the shoulders, attempting to convey her nonchalance at the situation.

She diverted the subject away from her deceased half-brother, and continued on. "I thought Michael loved me, too. After you killed him, I asked my father if he was to get close to me for a reason, that it was not real. I was right. I was totally in love with him, and he did not care for me in the slightest."

I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy as she declared her love for Michael. I had asked her in Israel, but she was far too full of rage and hatred to answer me truthfully. On the other hand, how could someone take advantage of Ziva like that? I was almost glad I killed him- he deserved it. I would have no regret at all in taking that scumbag's life if it wasn't for the anguish it forced upon Ziva.

"And now you are the only one left. You can't even imagine my surprise when I saw your face in Somalia. I had accepted the fact that death was imminent, and I was even embracing the prospect. The people who truly cared about me, loved me, were the ones I betrayed, the ones I abandoned. You and Gibbs and McGee and Abby and even Ducky.

And when I saw you today, flirting with Tempe, I felt like you had given me a taste of my own medicine. I felt betrayed- I am your partner, Tony. Can you not flirt when I am around?" Desperation began to enter her voice, an emotion that doesn't fit her personality at all.

I was totally and completely shocked. Yes, I had flirted with Tempe, but it was only to maintain the playboy persona that had been so lacking in front of my coworkers recently. That wasn't nearly the thing that affected me the most about her emotional outburst, however- it was my narcissism bubbling to the surface at the possibility of her feeling something for me more than that of partners and friends. It couldn't be possible- all the advances I made on her, all the hints I dropped, all the declarations I made, and she had never acted upon them in the slightest, just laughing them off as trivial, harmless flirting.

"Would you prefer I flirt with you instead?" I said playfully, batting my eyelashes, trying to return the conversation to inconsequential bickering.

"Maybe I would!" she said, eyes blazing with an indecipherable, albeit strong, emotion, her voice filled with the same indignation as that day in Tel-Aviv.

"I would, most definitely," I said honestly, taking a last chance stab.

"I would, also," her melodious voice lowered a few decibels and an octave, taking on a husky tone that sent an arousing shiver down my spine. She took a small step toward me, so that I was almost nose to nose with her. I decided to take the next step, and pursed my lips, bridging the miniscule distance between our two faces.

In that second when our lips met, in that single moment of burning passion, two became one. Two heads bent toward each other became one silhouette, two pairs of eyes, emerald and chocolate, meshed as they became clouded with lust and fervor, two bodies molded together, filling in each other's missing pieces. And the most important thing, two hearts, two souls became one spirit.

**The Room of Abby Scuito and Tim McGee**

**AN- I know I said it was 10:15 in the last chapter, but I'm going to take some poetic license here and pretend like it's now around 8:00, and the characters were just tired from the long trips they took that day. This fluff that I had planned wouldn't work otherwise. Also, I've never written McAbby or gone into Abby's POV, so wish me luck (crosses fingers)!**

I extended my arm as we left the others, and the gentleman that he is, he took it gently and looped it over his (newly) muscular one. I could feel the definition of his biceps and triceps, and began to probe it softly with cool fingers. He smiled his soft, shy smile at me, and pulled the key out of his jeans.

I had to admit, with McGee, silence was far from awkward. Unless the subject was jet packs, he was a naturally quiet man, much like his hero, Gibbs. This was the main reason why he had such problems fitting in with the team when he first arrived; Tony, Ziva and even Kate pretty much overshadowed him.

I hadn't realized that I was staring him, and when his eyes met mine, I looked away shyly. He delicately extracted my arm from its intertwined position with his, so he could remove the room card from his opposite pocket. Our assigned door came upon us fast, and we strode in, he politely stepping back and gesticulating his preference that my entrance be prior to his. I stepped forward graciously, and the door swung shut, clicking quietly.

The room was a classic high-class suite, containing exquisite cherry furniture with gold accents and immaculate appliances. White silk curtained door opened up onto what I presumed to be a balcony, and my eternal curiosity led me to ask McGee to accompany me outside.

"Timmy, I want to see what's outside," I whined, a pleading look on my pale face and my hands clasped together. He started to object to my proposition, saying "Abby, it's been a long day, we should just relax and…" He cut off once he saw my face, and basically realized that this was one battle he just had to forfeit. We walked over to the doors, and pushing them open, it felt like a scene in a movie. You know when the girl is the in the middle of the big happy song and she separates the doors with both hands and all the little animals flock around her. Well that's the mood that emanated from this moment, other than the fact that I can't carry a tune to save my life and I don't think little fluffy animals like black hair and black lipstick and platform boots.

When the doors parted, a beautiful sight was before our eyes. I could see the golden orb of the Sun rapidly approaching the horizon, specifically the rolling green hill above which a fiery crescent now lay. The sky was streaking with beautiful shades of vibrant color that blended into each other perfectly. Lavenders and ceruleans and rubies and scarlets all bled together, forming a beautiful scene- most definitely photo-worthy.

McGee began to speak. "Twilight has always been my favorite time of day, since I was a little boy. The end of a new day, the start of another. My sister and I always used to watch the sun go down. Sometimes I still watch it, but the crazy work hours don't usually allow for it.

There's something special about sunsets- some ephemeral, transient, mysterious magic. It's the time of day when you feel as one with the world, that the beauty of the universe is at your fingertips and still ethereal, alien and most of all unattainable. My mother used to tell me that the sky at sunset was the angels' canvas. Whatever mood they were in that day, that resulted in what colors they used. Red for ire, orange and yellow for bliss, blue for grief and sorrow, purple for a feeling of royalty and pink for love. You see, tonight, there's a lot of pink. Do you see it?"

He stuck out his pointer finger, indicating the aforementioned rose patch. I teased him "And this is the famous Thom. E. Gemcity. Now we know why our little Timmy is a best seller." A slight blush came upon his cheeks, but he gave me a small smile, telling me that he took no insult from my comment.

A shiver suddenly came over me for no reason at all, considering it was a beautiful summer evening, despite the swarm of mosquitoes. McGee saw the convulsion pass through my body, and in a remarkably sweet gesture, removed his own light jacket, and placed it gently over my shoulder, it swallowing my small frame. He also took this as an opportunity to hook his arm over my shoulder, giving me a light squeeze.

"Missing the sunset is the only thing I regret about joining NCIS. I know its trivial and stupid, but some days, the days where I was taunted and harassed, it was the highlight of my day. It makes me miss Sarah, too. We haven't spoken in over six months- we both lead very busy lives. But this makes up for it, watching the sunset with someone I love."

His last words hung heavy in the air. Love is a strong emotion, and can be interpreted in many different ways. In this case, I know that the love is not romantic- it's familial. NCIS is a family, dysfunctional or otherwise. There's Gibbs, the father figure that everyone looks up to, and all seek his approval. Jenny was the mother, always bickering with Gibbs, and very protective of her own, particularly our team. Tony's the oldest child, with a mysterious past he never talks about, always picking on his younger siblings, but still making the father proud. Next is Ziva- she can play two roles: either the adopted daughter, the exotic foreigner who found a place here, disowning her biological family in the process, or the daughter-in-law, who came into the family by marrying Tony, and adds a whole new dimension to our dynamic. Then there's McGee, the youngest brother, the most geeky one of them all, who's not so sure of himself, and taken advantage of by his big brother and sister. Then there's me. I would call myself the youngest daughter, Daddy's little girl- a title I could never hold in what now feels like my previous life, with my mother, father and brother. I'm the one Gibbs spoils, I'm the one who everyone shows affection to because I'm a safe haven- there's no risk in fraternizing with me. You can't forget Ducky, the old uncle who spins stories of times that no one really cares about, but everyone listens, or at least tries. And I guess that would make Palmer like the weird cousin, who really doesn't fit in but it there all the same.

"You mean like…like a family, right?" I asked, obvious apprehension in my voice.

"No, not like a family," his voice took on a darker tone as he cleared up the misconception.

"Like something more?" I inquired, the hope fluttering in my chest entering my voice now.

"Like something more," he confirmed, and planted a kiss on my cheek, and walked inside.

**Oh wow, that's the longest chapter I've ever written by far. I wanted to give my faithful readers a treat after all this time. As always, review, and please give me any suggestions you might have with any of the other couples or these. **

**~Dolphinsramazing~**


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N- Sorry, I haven't updated in ages- I've been really busy with softball and school, and I hope you like it!**

**The Room Of Jack Hodgins and Angela Montenegro**

"Hodgins! Hodgins!" I screamed after her as she briskly walked down the hallway. "Jack! Wait for me!" I said desperately. He ignored me and his gait reached a near sprint as his long confident strides spanned the hallway. Exhausted from the day's endeavors, I slowed down, attempting to fathom as to why he was suddenly giving me a not so subtle cold shoulder.

He had quietly shut the door after entering, and taken the only key with him inside. I was locked out of my own hotel room, and the sole occupant was harboring some sort of resentment towards me at the moment, for reasons unknown.

I banged frantically on the wooden door, crossing my fingers behind my back, hoping he would allow me entrance. "Jack, please," I begged, allowing anxiety to cloud my tone. I _really_ didn't want to be stranded outside all night.

I heard reluctant, slow footsteps approaching the door, and I released a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. The brass doorknob rotated, and Hodgins's weary face materialized in the doorframe.

I hadn't realized how much he had aged in the past year or so. The beginnings of crow's feet were appearing at the corners of his blue eyes, worry lines were creasing his forehead, and his brown hair was dotted with flecks of gray. The thing that worried me the most was the look in his eyes, the look that he had seen all the evils of the world and nothing could hurt him anymore. I knew that both of his parents had died when he was a young boy, but extracting information from him pertaining to his past was comparable to pulling teeth. I also knew that I had contributed to the pain that was obvious in his eyes -losing Zach the way we did, he needed me to stand by his side to heal the hurt, but what I did was abandon him in his time of need. It's not like I hadn't spent nights lying awake, wondering why I sabotaged the best relationship I had ever had. But romantic that I am, I couldn't force myself to stay with someone who didn't trust me, and whom I didn't trust. In my opinion, trust is one of the most important virtues in a relationship, and once the trust is broken, it's only downhill from there.

When my vision came back into focus, I realized that Jack's face had disappeared, and he had left the door slightly ajar. I slipped into the room stealthily, hearing the quiet click of the door behind me. I perused the bedroom, and my eyes not resting upon Jack's toned physique I became wary. I was no investigator, but I knew there was a motive behind his aloofness, and I intended to find it out.

I entered what would be considered the sitting area, and there he was, stretched out on the couch, the television screen flashing. It seemed too mundane a pursuit for someone of his extreme intelligence; he had at least fifteen televisions in his mansion, but all were covered in a fine layer of dust. And even if he were to watch TV, it seemed like he would be watching Discovery Channel or something, not the hockey game that was currently on the screen.

I sat down next to him on the small settee, my thigh brushing his. He jumped away from me quickly and relocated to the recliner adjacent to the couch. He wiped his palms on his worn jeans, a clear sign of nervousness, and ran his fingers through his thick curly hair.

I wasn't giving up on the cat and mouse game yet, especially not while I was in the lead. I arose from the couch (which was extremely comfortable, I might add), and settled down on the arm of the recliner, my legs crossed and my arm around his shoulder for balance. I felt the slightest bit of guilt when I thought of Wendell sitting home without me, and me, for lack of a better word, flirting with Jack. I had never seen this relationship with Wendell as any more than a fling, but I felt bad doing that to the poor kid- he was totally committed to me, and if circumstances would've presented themselves, our child. But Jack would have been able to provide much better than a struggling grad student, and I really did miss him- in more ways than one.

I saw Jack extricate himself from my arm draped over his shoulder and getting up from the recliner, revisit his spot on the couch. I had never seen him this nervous or this jumpy, even right after we broke up. Confrontation time.

"Jack, what's your problem?" I walked right up to him and said it- no beating around the bush for me.

"What's my problem?" he asked incredulously, his voice rising with indignation. "You really have to ask?"

"Yes," I said honestly and sincerely, looking him right in the eyes. I could get lost in those cerulean orbs.

"I…I can't be near you without being near you…" he stumbled, not making coherent sense, at least to me.

"What do you mean?" I asked innocently.

"I can't be this close to you, without you being mine. I can't see your lips without remembering our first kiss on the swings. I can't have your arm around me without recalling that night you held me after I was kidnapped by the Gravedigger. I can't have your legs touch mine without recollecting our lunchtime escapades. I can't see your face, your trusting eyes without remembering the first time you told me you loved me. I can't see your luggage without picturing the day you moved in to my place. I can't watch you eat without remembering the day we broke up. I can't do it anymore, Angela. I can't pretend like I don't miss you, like I don't regret losing the best relationship of my life each and every night, I can't sublimate my attraction to you, I can't watch you be with someone else, and I certainly can't sit here and pretend I don't love you, even though you don't feel the same way about me."

"I've missed you so much, Jack. Like you said, we both could have stopped it. You never know a good thing until it's gone, and by then I thought it was too late to rekindle the spark. But if you feel the same way that I do, then…" I said hopefully, my brain postulating scenarios at a million miles a minute.

"Angela, you have a boyfriend!" Jack said disbelievingly. So what? I had been planning on breaking the news to Wendell some time next week anyway. For all my faults, I still like things to be on my terms.

"You're backing down now?" I said, knowing he would always rise to whatever challenge posed to him. "You just told me how much you've missed me, how you pine for me, and I tell you the same thing and you get cold feet? I don't understand you sometimes, Jack!" I said without thinking, walking out of the room and slamming the door to the bathroom.

**The Room of Jethro Gibbs and Camille Saroyan**

**A/N- This is totally uncharted territory for me, both the characters and POV's , and I wasn't sure whether to make them an actual couple or not, so I decided to go down another path, based on a comment someone made in a review. **

Gibbs's POV

Cam, as she liked to be called, walked amicably at my side. She seemed to be a very congenial person, and incredibly easy to interact with it. I imagine she found a need to perfect this skill, working with the smartest and most socially awkward people in the world. I found myself lightening up and laughing at her jokes, feeling an invisible weight lifted off my shoulders. The caseload had been particularly heavy these past few weeks, and I had been pushing my team and myself much harder than usual. Nearly all of the cases were tough to deal with- two or three involving child abductions and one involving an orphan because his father died. Tony had been attempting to alleviate the tension with his usual humor, but it wasn't as effective as usual, and so the environment in the squad room had been quite edgy as of late. I had noticed, however, that the frequency of Tony and Ziva's flirty banter had been escalating, and I knew I had to keep a close eye on them. As with Jenny and I, them taking it to the next level is inevitable, despite the barrier of Rule 12 in their way. It's only there to begin with to prevent the heartbreak I had- now I feel like a girl, talking about my heart getting broken. But there's no other way to put it- I hadn't gotten attached to anyone since Shannon when Jenny poked and pushed and demolished my walls and got in.

"Agent Gibbs? Agent Gibbs? Are you still with us?" Cam asked, her voice clouded with what seemed like genuine concern.

I shook my head slightly to try and insert myself back into the conversation. This was a major problem- my sniper skills were seriously declining. I found myself out of it more and more, just deep in thought, pensively analyzing my life. I really needed to get a hobby other than that damn boat.

"Yes, I'm fine," I said politely. "And please call me Jethro," I added as an afterthought, thinking that if we're sharing a room (and possibly a bed), we can at least be on a first name basis.

"Okay, Jethro," she said coquettishly, though I didn't think it was intentional.

The air between us became awkward, likely because she finally ran out of things to say. We had finally reached our room. It took an inordinate amount of time, despite our brisk pace. It was the last room at the end of the hallway, certainly a far trek from the elevator, not that either of us were complaining.

I decided to test my powers of observation on her, if not just to break the silence. "You were a cop in New York," I said bluntly, as was my specialty.

"Yes," she said, surprised. "How did you know that? You didn't run a background check on me, did you?" she said teasingly.

"No. I just know these things," I said cryptically

"Okay," she said warily, still not convinced.

"I have a question for you," I said, changing the topic smoothly. "It's not case related."

"Shoot," she said, her brow furrowing at what I could be asking her not pertaining to the case, seemingly our only common ground."

"Do you have a sister?" I asked confidently.

"Yes…" she said, her expression still one of confusion, not knowing where I was going with this.

"Is she your twin?" I questioned directly.

"No, she's four years younger than me," she stated matter of factly.

Shoot, I guess I was wrong about it being her twin. Either she has an incredibly suspicious past and recently changed her name, or…I couldn't see any other alternatives.

"Wait…I did have a twin at one point. My biological parents died in a car accident almost immediately after I was born. Instead of placing me in the foster system, I was adopted by my childless aunt and uncle, who I think of as my parents. They didn't have the funds to take care of two children, and so my sister went into the system. A few years ago, I tried to track her down, but was entirely unsuccessful- I had no last name to go on. She might have been adopted by another family and taken their name. Four years later, they had a child of their own. Felicia's actually my cousin by blood, but my sister by love." Cam said with a small smile.

"What was her name?" I probed gently, due to the gentle nature of this topic.

"Cassandra. Why are you asking me all these questions, Jethro?" she inquired.

"I know your sister, Cam. She's an NCIS agent named Cassie Yates, and she looks exactly like you. I didn't want to get your hopes up until I was sure. You can meet her, if you like. She's worked with my team a few times, and she'll listen to me if I tell her something."

Cam's mouth dropped open, and she immediately placed a hand to cover it. I could see the tears welling up in her eyes, and I hoped that they were tears of happiness. Someone deserved a happy ending.

**A/N- Yes, I know that was short, but I just wanted to get this section of the story wrapped up. Don't worry, it's not over, and I swear, I'll try to update quicker this time.**

**As always, review, and please tell me any suggestions, particularly if you want Gibbs and Cam to be a couple or not.**

**~Dolphinsramazing~**


	8. Chapter 8

**I didn't know where to go with this, so I decided to keep you hanging about the outcomes of the couples' nights. I will be dropping hints about them, and keep in mind that I am a hopeless romantic. **

**Thanks as always, to my "beta", who's not really an official beta because she doesn't have an account here, but I love her all the same. By the way, only the first half is beta'd, so I hope there's not too many mistakes! (crosses fingers)**

**~Dolphinsramazing~**

The arrangements that the Jeffersonian had made for the teams included a continental breakfast in the main dining room, which immediately incited delight in Tony and Booth. We were accustomed to the often childish attitudes of the aforementioned, and Gibbs regarded it with his usual callous indifference. I had never seen him eat anyway, seemingly preferring to survive on coffee and the occasional slice of pizza filched from the box Tony ordered sometimes. Of course, there were those times (few and far in between) that a team member came over to his house and he ate actually food, but that was the exception.

I had the ingrained habit of ungodly early rising, ingrained by years of four o'clock wake up calls to prepare for training, and so had reserved the largest banquet table for the joint team, pulling up the necessary number of chairs. Only seconds after I had made a final count, Gibbs had appeared at my side, his silence a comfort to me instead of a burden, as it usually was in social situations. We sat in amiable silence, him nursing his usual cup of coffee (brewed in his room, of course), and me munching on a chocolate chip muffin. There I certainly fill the stereotype of an American woman- I have a weakness for chocolate that I have to succumb to occasionally, and now seemed to be the ideal opportunity.

"Ziva, you have my blessing," Gibbs said out of nowhere, his voice lower and gentler than its usual tone.

"Your blessing?" I inquired, genuinely confused.

"Rule 12," he said tersely.

I wracked my brain for which taboo I had apparently broken or was in danger of breaking. My mind finally set upon a recent time- the plane on the way back from Paris, when Nora was practically interrogating me as to the nature of my relationship with Tony. Rule #12- Never date a co-worker. Understanding washed over me at the meaning of his words, but motive for them still eluded me.

"You're welcome," he said, reading my face, and planting a chaste kiss on my cheek, he strode off, his fingers still clutching his coffee cup.

I sat pensively for a few moments after he left, mostly pondering the many intricacies of Gibbs's character. Just when I thought I had him sized up, he would surprise me again.

The rest of the joint teams arrived in a huge group. Tony was talking animatedly with Booth about some sort of sport, probably basketball because of the motion he was mimicking. Tempe and Angela seemed deep in conversation, and I saw Angela's eyes widen and her mouth open; I had no desire to know what it was they were discussing. Abby was running up behind them, as fast as she could in four inch platforms, and inserting herself into their conversation. Hodgins and McGee were lagging behind, probably talking about the trials and tribulations of their romantic relationships- I couldn't see any other common ground between them other than their "unattainable" women.

Cam was walking alone, all the girls excluding her from their dynamic conversation. Gibbs covertly inserted himself into the group at Cam's side and immediately struck up some sort of conversation that had them laughing in seconds. To see Gibbs laugh so freely was a rarity in and of itself, but for him to charm a woman? I had not seen that since Jenny, and it heartened me to see that maybe he was done mourning his losses and ready to move on. He pushed her thick black hair away from her face and whispered something in her ear which she responded to with a solemn nod, unshed tears obviously shining in her eyes as they drew closer. He wrapped her into an awkward one armed hug, she still obviously resisting, trying to clear her throat and prevent herself from letting the tears fall. Gibbs gently dabbed a finger under her closed eyelid, wiping the tears away. She opened her eyes, which were still glistening with moisture, and put a dazzling smile on her face, the contrast of her white teeth and darker skin making it all the more striking. Gibbs reciprocated the grin, and the expression mirrored on my face because I had never seen Gibbs this happy, and it did not seem forced for a change. I knew all about that.

Somewhere during the short walk from the elevator to the table, the group had split off into "couples"- Tempe and Booth, Angela and Hodgins, McGee and Abby, obviously Gibbs and Cam, and Tony was approaching me, a smile plastered on his face and a mischievous glint in his eyes. What was he planning? I did not wish to know.

"Hey, Ziva! How are you this fine morning?" he questioned happily.

"Why are you so chipper?" I asked hesitatingly, not sure if I was using the correct expression.

"Because it's a bright sunny day, and that makes me happy!" he said excitedly, even more energetic than his usual self, which was quite an achievement. I took this as an explanation for his behavior despite the fact that it was not legitimate.

"So whatcha got for me to eat, Zee-vah?" he asked, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

I shook my head at his childish antics, though I actually found it quite endearing and part of his charm. Instead, I replied "There is an entire buffet over there. No one else seems to be having a problem finding it." I gestured to the rest of the team gathered around the large table.

"Fine, be mean, Zi. I don't mind." Tony said, a pout on his face as he feigned distress. He skipped off to the buffet, and I plopped down in a chair, the lack of sleep last night finally catching up to me.

I kept a close eye on him as he mingled amongst the others. I made the observance that he had lost some of that cocky strut that had colored his every move when I had first made his acquaintance. He I had been humbled by the ever-present death of the ones closest to him. Kate had been before my time, but Abby had filled me in on the details one night. She had barely stopped crying throughout the whole retelling, and despite the fact that Abby's extremely sensitive, a little too naïve for our line of work, I could tell that this had been a horrifying time for every single member of the team.

Paula's death had hit him hard too- I think it was that he thought he should have protected her, saved her from harm, a weight that is always on his shoulders. He was also scared when he heard that we were the team that was supposed to be on hotline detail that weekend, but some twist of fate had saved our lives. It is not like we don't look death in the eyes each and every day, that the murders we solve atone for the lives we have taken, but to see our very mortality displayed in front of us? It is enough to scare the most courageous of men.

Jenny's murder sent him into a rapid downward spiral. I know that he still regrets to this day the mistakes we made in our protection detail, and the re-assignment as Agent Afloat just exacerbated his pain, making him truly believe that he had erred, and all of us were too busy dealing with our own problems to worry about him. I had found him in a drunken stupor a few nights after work in those first few weeks before we all got reassigned, and he had obliquely indicated that his father had had drinking problems, so I knew he was genetically predisposed to addiction. And Gibbs had, advertently or otherwise, added to the notion that he, Tony, was responsible for the death of his friend and boss.

"Ziva! Ziva! You in there?" Tony asked loudly, having suddenly reappeared at my side.

"Of course I am," I said perplexedly. "Where else would I be?"

He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly and plopped himself down in the chair next to me, a plate full of food of horrible nutritional value in front of him. I could not resist the opportunity to taunt him a little bit.

"This is why you have bulked up," I teased, gesturing to the plate.

"It's all muscle, baby," he said, flexing his upper arm and nodding approvingly.

I couldn't keep the smile off my face- he definitely countered the seriousness of our work with his light-hearted humor.

"Of course it is," I replied skeptically, and before I could say anything else, the rest of the group arrived, their food in tow.

Tempe came over to sit on the other side of me (Tony occupied the other), but before she could take a seat, Booth appeared behind her and courteously pulled the chair out for her. She smiled shyly at him, a fierce blush rising up her cheeks.

"Thank you, Seeley," she purred. Seeley? She had always seemed to call him Booth, and by the look on Angela's face that flitted between shock and content, this was a new occurrence.

"You're welcome, _Temperance_," he accentuated. He seemed to be embracing this obviously new and different relationship with Tempe, and she was all too ready to return his advances. _Something_ had happened it that hotel room last night…

Tempe was gazing dreamily off into the distance, her blue eyes sparkling with an emotion I could not place. I tapped her on the shoulder, my short nails penetrating the thin fabric. She shifted in her seat, her eyes locking with mine.

"What happened between you and Booth last night?" I asked, feeling like a teenage girl spreading the latest gossip- a naivety I never got to possess, an experience I never got to have. I was too preoccupied with learning how to kill people in creative (and untraceable) ways.

A broad smile appeared on her face, and she let out a slight giggle, but she shook her head and mouthed "I'll tell you later." I didn't blame her, because the entire table seemed to be starting at her, and I had decided that she was the type who didn't really like the spotlight on her. I nodded quickly, and began to check out the rest of the group and how their nights might have unfolded. This could affect my day (and the focus on the case) tremendously, adversely or otherwise. And I had to admit, I was also quite curious.

McGee and Abby were directly across from me, but the enormity of the table made them entirely out of reach, or even speaking distance. I would have to scream if I wished to carry on a conversation with them. They looked quite content to not be speaking with any others. I could see the adoration in McGee's eyes when he looked at her, and when she reciprocated I was not surprised in the slightest. They were an adorable couple, and both of them deserved someone faithful, someone kind, that they could spend the rest of their lives with. I had been informed by Tony (prior to McGee letting it slip while inebriated) about their fleeting relationship soon after they met, and I hoped, for their sake, that it was more of a commitment, a relationship of permanence, this time around. He had covertly wrapped his arm around her shoulders and planted a kiss on her head. This wasn't actually out of the ordinary for them, which is why I found them denying their emotions before odd now, but I could see Abby glowing at this simple gesture, because now she could; now he was hers, and only hers. I never really understood the gesture of claiming another, as much as it is (and would be) sweet, but that's likely because my people, the Jews, have been subjugated, enslaved, owned for a better part of their history. But still, good for her. She is likely the most sympathetic, considerate and compassionate person I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, but these qualities are often overlooked because of the package they come in- the Goth attire.

Next, I moved on to Angela and Hodgins. The Asian forensic artist was garbed in an extremely provocative (at least in my opinion- but then again, I am quite conservative in my dressing) outfit, well, dress to be precise. It was what they call a "mini-dress" in America, and it was cut deeply down in both the back and front, exposing a fair amount of cleavage and a broad expanse of perfect skin, unlike the skin of my own back, which was marred by scars. I could never wear a dress like I wore that night undercover in Morocco again.

Angela's dress was of a thin, silky, bright red fabric, and it clung to her every curve, the fabric ending at mid thigh. It was accessorized by a pair of four inch black patent leather stiletto heels that had straps that wrapped around her legs, a thin black and silver necklace that rested right below her chest, matching teardrop earrings, and a thick red cuff. Her raven hair was wavy and ran down her back; her eyes adorned with dark mascara to accentuate them. I had never been the type for being jealous about others' appearances, but I was full of envy- she looked beautiful, and Hodgins certainly seemed to appreciate her outfit. He kept attempting to touch her- put his arm around her, run his fingers through her hair, kiss her cheek, but she kept knocking him away. I was surprised because Angela seemed…promiscuous to say the least, but I hate to be judgmental- if I were to have been summed up in one word when I first came to America, I would not like to know what people would have said. Tony would have probably said sexy, exotic, or hot, McGee intimidating or petrifying, Abby something with negative connotations (she had possessed a hatred bordering on abhorrence when I first arrived, because I was replacing Kate), Gibbs I don't know- the way the man's mind works is impossible to decipher.

Angela's anger was mounting and her voice getting louder. "Hodgins, I have a boyfriend! I told you, in a few days, I'll be all yours again," she said, her voice getting sultry as she reached the end of her statement. I furrowed my brow in extreme confusion. Number one, she had a boyfriend? Then why was she flirting shamelessly with Hodgins? And she was going to break up with said (and anonymous) boyfriend? In a few days? I extrapolated that he must be in DC, because she seemed to be the type to do things in person, and I guessed that she assumed that this case would only last a few days, but she should know better- cases can be unsolved for weeks, months, days, years, even forever. There are boxes and boxes of cold cases in storage, ones that might be opened and solved, and others that might remain sealed forever, killers never brought to justice.

Gibbs stood up abruptly and pushed his chair in, the legs squeaking against the tile floor. He coughed loudly, obviously trying to make as much noise as possible, which was against his nature.

"Excuse me!" he addressed the rowdy bunch. I looked at him, and lifted my shoulders and eyebrows in exasperation, not knowing how to get the group's attention either.

"Hey!" he tried louder to no avail.

"Shut the hell up!" he bellowed angrily, and all the heads turned to face him. Cam looked a little unnerved at his outburst, but at seeing her discomfort he gave her a reassuring nod, and she gave him a small smile in return.

"If you are all done playing grab ass, it's time to work on the damn case!" he said irately. All the members of his team, including myself, knew that he meant business, and immediately rose out of our seats, clearing our places at the table. Tempe, glimpsing Tony and I out of the corner of her eye, followed suit and gestured to her team to emulate.

Taking a quick look at the classic watch on his tanned wrist, Gibbs said matter of factly "Meet at the lab in thirty minutes." It was approximately twenty minutes away from the hotel, so it was necessary to get on the road right away, in order to allow for rush hour traffic and ensure punctuality.

"Timmy, you're coming in the hearse whether you like it or not," Abby said defiantly, crossing her arms in an uncharacteristic aggressive manner for someone of her disposition.  
"Okay, Abs," said man sighed, adopting our fearless leader's nickname for the Goth, and they walked off arm in arm. With the third member of our team otherwise engaged, and Gibbs preferring as usual to provide his own method of transportation, that would leave Tony and me in the van alone.

"Hey, Zee-vah," he said boisterously, wrapping a long arm around my waist. The movement was actually more sweet than provocative, a surprise for Tony. Then again, he had proved time and time again that he had grown up, been hardened by the world, or just let it affect him now.

Despite the slight impediment on our speed, we continued to walk in this manner until we reached the entrance/exit of the hotel, but once stepping up to the revolving door, he gave me a slight squeeze and withdrew his arm. He rubbed his palm on his (tight) jeans, and after allowing me to pass through first, he tentatively took my hand. It fit perfectly in my own, our fingers interlocking.

The conversation I had shared with Tony a few years ago pertaining to the subject of soul mates immediately came into mind. I believed in soul mates, even then, and had recognized Tony as my own. I am not sure if he did not share my belief, or if he was just afraid to admit it, always trying to protect himself, never wanting to make himself vulnerable.

Soon, we had reached the van, and Tony had a concerned look on his face at my recurring absentmindedness. He chivalrously went ahead and opened the passenger door for me, outstretching a hand to indicate that I should sit. I jumped up and plopped down, and he walked around to the other side, slamming the door behind him.

"Thank you, Tony," I said graciously.

"No problem, Ziva," he returned.

"Tony…we have to talk about _this_." I began, knowing that this would be a long and awkward conversation.

"Shhh," he said, placing a finger on my lips as he expertly navigated the car with his other hand.

"Tony," I said exasperatedly.

"Ziva…this is enough for now. At least for me. We know that we love each other, we know a lot more about each other than we did before, but I'm…I'm not ready to take the next step yet." He admitted.

I was genuinely surprised- I knew the playboy persona had dissipated quite a bit, but I was not aware that it was to this extent. In truth, I did not mind. I had fallen in love with the man behind the mask, the part of him he only let slip through when his guard was down.

"It is all right, Tony. I do not mind waiting. I have been waiting for four years already. I know now that my l…love for you is not unrequited, and we can have these little things." I caressed his cheek, and he smiled broadly. It was still a struggle for me to say "love" at all. I had never been loved, not since Tali. I thought my father had loved me, but he had loved my position as a prestigious officer of Mossad, not as his daughter.

"Thank you, Ziva. I want to take this slow and do it right." he said seriously, and squeezed my hand across the divide.

I just smiled. I was finally with the love of my life, my soulmate. What could go wrong?

**This isn't a proper ending, but I just wanted to post this. As always, drop me a line, positive or constructive criticism. I want to know if people are still reading this! - Dolphins**


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